First and Second Sea Days

Usually I am sad when we leave Cabo San Lucas, because more often than not it means next stop Los Angeles, and theÂ end of the cruise. This time, of course, there are days of sailing and many ports to go. I was unhappy, however, to leave Oscar. Oscar, and I have no idea why, is the name I gave to the Sea Gull that sat on the railing watching us eat breakfast on the spacious open-air deck to the rear of Lido. He never seemed to want food, he just seemed curious.

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When we finished our meal, Oscar left.

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Dinner after Cabo was by the pool and under the stars; well, star, as the sun had just set. The menu was typical, chicken, steak, pasta, and didn’t really entice me. But the appetizers! My dinner was about 50 jumbo shrimp and sardines too small and squashable to count. A lovely Merlot made the night.

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After we ate, the four of us went to the elevators. Three went through the big doors, but I went to the side as I wanted to see something. I forget what as you soon under stand. When I turned back to join them, I saw them straight ahead and went through the closer, but more narrow doorway. My eyes were focused on them. Suddenly I heard a loud bang. I would have jumped at the sound, but I slumped instead. Some idiot had filled the opening with glass. It was a huge shock.

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In seconds a small group gathered, one of whom was a Dr. who took a look and said he didn’t think I’d need a stitch, but maybe a butterfly bandage. In truth, while there was some blood, there was no gash. I wondered how much good a butterfly bandage would do for my concussion. Crewmembers brought a chair, but I stood strong. My sons would have been proud.

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One thing though, I will never again laugh at that commercial where a woman walks into a store, hits the glass of the closed door, and falls to the ground.

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Back to the cabin, where Michael cleaned what wound there was, and then we joined our friends at the show featuring a highly touted comedian. He was probably in his late sixties or early seventies with hair, mostly graying now, lower than his shoulders. His droll approach to comedy was refreshing. He talked about the ship, Cabo, and then drifted into some Irish Humor.

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Example:

Man says, “I’ll take a pint of bitters.”

“You’re Irish aren’t you?”

“Why do you say that? If I asked for some Chianti, would you think I was Italian?”

“No.”

“If I asked for sake, would you think I was Asian?”

“No.’

“Then why do you think I’m Irish?”

“Because sir, this is the dry cleaners.”

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Yesterday was filled with sleep, sun, and food. The sea was calm, the temperature in the low eighties, and vacation was settling in.

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We had dinner in one of Symphony’s specialty restaurants, Prego. Prego is affiliated with Valentino’s in Los Angeles which helps plan the menus. There is no extra charge for eating at Prego, except for a suggested tip of $7 per person.

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The six course meal, of which I had four, was the best Italian food I’ve ever put away. Because I am allergic to garlic, I have to choose carefully from any Italian menu. Garlic will make me feel as if I have flu when I awake the next morning.

Each of the other three was served an entire head of garlic (figure 12 cloves). Michael ate all of hers. I slept with Michael last night. Today I feel as if I have the flu.

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We spent most of the day in the cabin reading and watching TV. Never in my entire life did I think the New Hampshire Primary would grab my attention. I probably need a butterfly bandage.

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Tonight I’ll eat in the safety of the main dining room, and then the four of us will watch the election results in our cabin.